


Battle Wounds

by chlare



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Battle of New York (Marvel), Super Soldiers Are Not Invincible, Superheroes Have Issues Too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 12:53:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5128361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chlare/pseuds/chlare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve's moving slow. He's pretty sure he's got a few cracked ribs, maybe even some internal bleeding, but he's not about to bother the hospital with that. Not today.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Battle Wounds

The Battle is over, the Chitauri are gone, the shawarma is eaten, and the Avengers are all back at the tower - what's left of it. Steve's moving slow. He's pretty sure he's got a few cracked ribs, maybe even some internal bleeding, but he's not about to bother the hospital with that.

Thor's already sacked out on a couch that doesn't have broken glass all over it. Bruce is down in one of the research labs, just in case, he says. Coulson... Steve shakes his head, blinking back a tear or two. Fury's still on his battleship, Steve assumes, handling the damage control. He doesn't envy him and Hill that job. The rest of the Avengers will join them tomorrow, help to move debris, anything they can. But for now... Clint's eyes keep closing where he's slumped in an armchair. Natasha smooths his hair back with a small smile and in the time it takes for Steve to turn his head, she's gone. 

Tony's already upstairs, tucked into bed by all of them, and Pepper and Rhodey will be there before dawn, Steve expects. 

So it's just Captain America awake, troops all tucked away for the night. Quietly, he asks JARVIS where he can find a shower and somewhere flat to make a cot out of. JARVIS equally quietly informs him there are plenty of rooms with actual beds and the water main does still seem to be functioning. He gives Steve rudimentary instructions, and Steve makes his way slowly to one of the other floors - now that his team is safe and mostly sound - and avoids the elevator in case it's dead, much to the detriment of his ribs which he's feeling a lot more intently now that the adrenaline has worn off. He might be a super soldier, but that's never made him immune to pain. 

Steve makes it to the first room nearest the stairwell and he can't even make it to the shower, he just lowers himself gingerly to the bed, giving silent apology to Tony's cleaning staff for all the gore and grunge he's getting on the linens. His ma would tan his ass for falling asleep like this, he thi--

His eyes pop open at the flutter of something against his cheek, and there's Natasha bent over him, reaching for the zipper on his uniform, her hair slipping against his face. "Nat?" he asks softly, wondering what she's up to, why she's here.

"Shouldn't have slipped past the SHIELD med-techs like that."

"I'll be fine."

"Sure. Lemme get you out of this thing." She's already got the jacket armor unzipped, pushing the star and stripes aside and lifting up the undershirt to look at the dark colors spreading across his abdomen. "Looks real fine, Cap." It would sound lascivious under different circumstances, but right now it just sounds on the verge of concerned. She shakes her head and helps him sit up so she can peel him out of the rest, some of the fabric having gotten stuck in dried wounds so it comes away with a few painful rips and more blood, but neither of them makes a fuss about that. 

"What about you, don't you need patching up?" he says, always uncomfortable having the attention directed at him and not the cause, not the fight. 

"I know when to fold 'em," she says, unzipping her catsuit part way to show fresh bandages by her collarbone. He gives her a look of chagrin and ducks his head. She's been injured and she's helping _him_? It doesn't sit well. "C'mon, Cap. Let's get the grime off. You'll sleep better. Be more useful in the morning," she adds when she must sense he's going to protest. 

She helps him stand and automatically goes to work on his utility belt and the zippers at his thighs. "Boy, they really pack you into this tight, don't they," she says over whatever protest he was about to make, and damn his ribs are killing him. He wants to be lying down again. How is she even functioning, let alone stripping him down?

Down to his shorts, she slips under one of his arms and helps him to the shower, shimmying out of her own suit once the water's running and he's leaning against the wall. Politely, he avoids looking at her, but her throaty chuckle tells him she thinks he's wasting his time. "In you go, Cap."

His shorts are off and he doesn't even try to protest he's so worn out by now. The spray feels good on him, and the feel of Natasha pressed up behind him feels even better. She's running cloth and soap over him carefully, and all he can do is drop his head between his shoulders and watch the blood slither down the drain, arms vainly bracing himself against the wall. There's more blood than he expected, there's also more of Nat's hands than he expected, more of her mouth against his shoulder blades, his back. 

"Natasha?" he asks quietly, his voice shaky. He's exhausted, but it's been months, ages since anyone's touched him like this. Not touched him naked but more that he hasn't been touched with such familiarity, such intimacy and it's making him tremble. He feels battered and broken in so many more ways than just the battle wounds with touches like that. He's kept himself wound tight, kept himself to himself for so long... Steve's not sure he can take this.

"Shh," she is all she says just above the sound of the water. Her fingers are light over his skin, but they dig in mercilessly when she finds one knot and then another. Low groans are wrenched from his lungs as she massages and he's wondering if his legs are going to give out. He feels wrung out, but it helps distract him from his ribs. She finds another larger knot and this time his knees do give out. She's quick enough though that she's got him around the waist, helping him up. 

Her hands stay splayed on his stomach, and he can feel her soft curves against his back, against his ass. "You mind?" comes her throaty voice again as she runs the washcloth around his cock, between his legs. 

"Don't m-mind," he gets out, because honestly, he couldn't say no if he wanted to right now. He just wants to be held, just wants some honest feelings in his head, on his skin. He's a mess, in a way that he had no clue he was before now, and maybe she's not holding him together, but she's not letting him fly apart.

The washcloth drops with a wet sound and her hand is curling around his shaft, working him to hardness, cupping his balls, soft, gentle, but determined. He groans low and needy. "Tash," he moans, because he can't pretend she's someone else, and he can't pretend this is anonymous or meaningless either. 

"I've got you, Steve," she whispers, working him quicker, rougher until he's panting and he can do nothing to stop the impending flood. She so rarely uses his name and he's so... gone. Electricity jolts through him as he comes against the shower wall, her lithe fingers still around him.

"Tash." He slumps heavily against the wall, knowing he'll be near dead weight for her. She doesn't bat an eye though, just turns the water off and towels him dry. Then pulls his arm around her shoulders again, like it's nothing, and pulls him back to the bed.

She doesn't ask him, she puts a bit of salve on his remaining wounds and just climbs in behind him. She's soft and warm and her fingers thread softly through his hair. "Sorry," he murmurs, apologizing for not- well, not doing anything for her. 

"Shh," is all she says, nestling close. "Rest, Steve."

And he does. For the first time in a long, long time.


End file.
